


A Gingerbread House

by emmaliza



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Porn, Dom/sub, F/M, Hints at reincarnation, Jon and the Starks Are Not Related, Loneliness, M/M, Prostitution, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-02
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-12-10 05:46:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11685315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmaliza/pseuds/emmaliza
Summary: Jon Targaryen, heir to a fortune, and four of the people he pays.





	A Gingerbread House

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the asoiaf kink meme prompt: "Jon/Cat/Robb/Sansa/Ygritte. Modern AU - Jon is a lonely billionaire heir with a fetish for gingers. He hires four high-end escorts Cat, Robb, Sansa, and Ygritte to satisfy all his needs."

**sweetheart**

She's gentle, almost shy, baby blue eyes cascading behind deep ochre locks and she must be barely legal. Part of him wants to ask how a girl like her ended up in this profession, but he's afraid of what he might learn. He has to remind himself that she's not some streetwalker with a pimp who has her caught in his web, she's well-paid and well-treated, and if she didn't want to be doing this she could probably afford not to be.

But she still seems like someone who shouldn't do this, like a Victorian opera heroine who was seduced and defiled as a young woman and degraded to this state, who has to die tragically of tuberculosis at the end. Sometimes he checks his pillows for blood in the morning just in case.

Sometimes he finds blood too, for sometimes he is rough with her – sometimes he pulls her pretty hair and comes across her guileless face and spanks her white arse red and spits in her ear that she's nothing but a whore. He doesn't know why he does it, because he feels like he shouldn't. Curiosity, maybe. To see how she'll react. But she always takes it just fine, she's always just as cheerful in the mornings after, and just giggles when he's left her so raw she can't even sit straight.

She's most likely to still be there in the morning, to wake curled up against his chest, to join him in the shower with a smile and her sweet pink lips wrapping around his cock, to tell him his shoddy pancakes are delicious and play footsie with him under the table while they eat.

He knows, in theory, he could have a girl like her, or a girl like what she seems to be, for free. He could have a thousand. He's a handsome young man and heir to one of the greatest fortunes in the country, girls flock to him, but Jon's never been able to make that work. He always feels like he's pretending to be someone he's not. This is easier, a simple transaction, he pays for sex and company and doesn't have to pretend to be any less pathetic than it is. It's easier when he doesn't have to forget.

But she does sometimes make him forget.

Even after he pays her, she kisses him before she leaves, long and soft and almost longing. It makes him wonder if she's as lonely as he is.

* * *

**best friend**

On the whole, he'd say he prefers women, but far from exclusively. He found him when he was exploring his tastes, although clearly not his colour palette, and quickly got very attached. There's no mistaking him for a girl, all firm muscles and bristling red beard that leaves a rash across Jon's skin, making him tingle warm and fierce. And he's got a big cock, and sometimes Jon finds himself sucking almost unthinkingly, sometimes he wakes his prostitute up in the middle of the night doing it, and that seems out of order but his boy is hardly inclined to complain. He kisses Jon afterward, stealing his come back, and it makes Jon feel like they're connected somehow, just for a moment.

Sometimes they don't even fuck, sometimes they just go out, to movies or galleries or sports games, and Jon still has no idea how rugby works but he knows that the boy he pays to fuck was captain of his high school team once. It's almost like they're dating, except not quite, because the way they laugh and fight and bicker makes them seem more like friends. Brothers, almost.

Except: this boy is so charming, so quick to make new friends, like Jon could never be. If he weren't doing this, he'd be CEO of something by now. He'd be better at the job than Jon would. And he loves to make Jon jealous, loves to get himself thrown into the closest toilets and slammed up against the wall and be told who he belongs to. Of course he doesn't belong to Jon, he must have a hundred other clients. He's not bought, only rented.

They do fuck, good and hard and rough, and Jon doesn't suffer the same lingering guilt as he does with his sweetheart – perhaps that's lingering sexism that tells him a man can take rough sex better than a woman can, perhaps his mother would set him right for that, but she's not here anymore. Jon likes him to fight for control, to wrestle him like boys wrestling for the remote control, and that's fun. Still, unless Jon explicitly tells him otherwise, in the end he yields. He ends up on his hands and knees taking Jon's cock, moaning and begging so loud you'd think he was the one paying for it. That's probably the safest option.

It's good when he doesn't yield though, when Jon ends up on his back spreading his legs like a slut, and the boy kisses him and tells him how beautiful he looks as he splits over his cock. It almost embarrasses Jon, how eager he is to be praised, but the boy has a way of making him feel warm and safe and loved.

It's all an act, of course, but the boy is a good actor.

* * *

**fuckbuddy**

She's the most straightforward of his regulars, the one he calls when he doesn't want to play a role or pretend he's loved, he just wants to get his rocks off. That's not to say he doesn't enjoy her company, far from it, sometimes they'll lie in bed together after watching Netflix for hours, and she'll ignore whatever he's chosen to instead regale him with tales of her exploits, and she'll laugh at how shocked he is at everything she says, like the man who wanted her to piss in his mouth dressed in a little red riding hood costume, or the man who wanted her to shove ginger up his arse.  _Honestly, how do you do it? You've got a whole list of hookers at your beck and call, and yet you know nothing,_  she teases him in that brogue of hers.

Ostensibly, she's probably the least attractive of his regulars, with her pug nose and crooked teeth and frizzy hair. And yet she's special to him, looking the way she does, and he loves her fiery red curls.  _If you love them so much, try not to tear them all out,_  she's told him, which is pretty rich considering the way she pulls his hair whenever he eats her out.

Still, in the end it's just a business thing; she walks away to find another client and he calls another one of his regulars the next day.

She's the one who's hair he whispers  _I love you_  into when she's in his bed, snoring so loud she couldn't hear him if she was awake.

* * *

**mother**

She's a lot older than him, and has more than a touch of a dominatrix about her. That must be what he likes, falling on his knees before her, worshipping her, begging for attention, for approval, for love. And she moans and pulls him closer, tells him he's been good, gives him a thousand rewards, offers her mouth and her cunt and her arse for his pleasure. She's a lot older than the others, and she's seen it all before. Deep down, he knows nothing he can do will ever surprise her. He's not sure if that's a disappointment or relief.

Frankly, him getting all Freudian is probably fair enough, since his mother left him with nothing a killer left hook and his father left him with nothing but a trust fund and a warning never to trust the rest of his family. So why shouldn't he beg for an older woman's love? Still, the red thing comes a little out of nowhere. You would expect him to grow fixated on his mother's dark locks, or his father's blonde that almost shone white. Instead, he seems to have chosen the opposite of both: not white or black, but deep rich colour. Maybe that's why.

When he's finished she holds him and tells him it will be okay, fetches him water if he needs it, ticks off her checklist. But she never stays for long afterward. She doesn't talk to him like the others. And when he hands her a cheque, he always senses a vague undertone of contempt.


End file.
